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The Enomienda: Chapter 1
My name is Anthony Cahill. And this is my story. When I was five, Percy had saved the world, the DemiTitans were defeated the week before, and everyone, whether mortal or immortal, celebrated what was about to be "the New Golden Age of peace." No one could ever have been more wrong. In New York City, there was a secret cult leader named Silas Redfern, a forty-year old, red haired man, who led a group of gun-wielding Nazis who simply named themselves the Militia. The rest of the mortal world knew him as the CEO multimillionaire philanthropist. But we knew who he was and what he did. Because they didn't just go out killing random people. They came for the blood of demigods. Didn't matter how old they were, how many children they had, how decent they were, to them, they all had to die. They would break into homes, execute them with a bullet to the head or just bring them to their prison camp in a spray painted pickup truck, and pay off all the witnesses so that no one knew about them. They did the same to my parents, but Silas actually came in and did it personally. He handcuffed me to a pillar in my house and threw a molotov cocktail at my feet and signalled for everyone to leave. I saw the fire consume my dead parent's bodies on the floor, and that was the last I saw of anything for a while. After I woke up I was standing in the middle of a burned down house, with only a smoldering ruin to my left, a leaking water pipe to my right, the bare, burned soil beneath me, and the storm clouds above me. Lupa found me just sitting there, and said, "Child, your destiny may not be with us, but even we know to treat the child of the Ancient Ones with respect." And she raised me until I was ten, then she let me go wherever I wanted. That was five years ago. And I still have no idea what she meant by a child of the Ancient Ones. Now I'm leading a small group of demigods myself. Howard Stewart, a son of Zeus, had his mom and stepdad kidnapped by the Militia. They would have gotten him too if his favorite pen didn't suddenly turn into an oversized Celestial Bronze cattle prod. After he instinctively struck the first Militiaman with it the house literally exploded in electricity and he was electrocuted three times over. But that energy awakened his dormant powers in the process and now he can manipulate lightning and ambient electricity with only his hands. I was wandering around in New York City when we met, now a desolate battlefield with the five block wide Empire Crater dominating the landscape along with the broken remains of the Empire State Building. We had a fight over a recently abandoned Safeway but when we matched, we grudgingly shared and became friends a little while after that. Bobby and Lucy Holt we found when we went west to Minnesota to escape the Militia which had wormed its way across the country. We found Lucy half-buried in the snow and half conscious, and we sort of half-carried half-dragged her into our safehouse. Howard started a little fire and I wrapped her in a blanket. Then Bobby broke in. You do not ever want to be on his receiving end. I nearly passed out when a tall eighteen year old literally crashed through our hideout's door demanding his sister back. But Howard handled it like a pro and explained everything, how we helped her, and how she was completely safe. I am still thanking the gods he spared us that day. John Roarke we found in the Arizona desert just last week. We still have no idea what he was doing there or exactly how old he was. He doesn't talk that much and he doesn't respond to personal questions. But he can assemble weapons like a pro, so my money's on that he's a son of Hephaestus. So's Bobby, but Howard and Lucy put in thirty bucks that he's a son of Apollo because he uses a bow pretty well. Ever since then we have been both driving and sort of roaming through to New Orleans because of some rumors we heard of a Demiprotogenoi camp there and for their help in destroying Redfern's Militia. We were cruising through Texas until we came across a prison camp. I had to admit it was impressive. Twenty foot high cinderblock walls lined with barbed wire, watchtowers with lighthouse patrols, and even an oil rig in the center with oil silos to the sides. But what really caught my eye was an insignia. A shield with four stars on top, orange and black stripes along the middle, and an orange X over the whole thing. "Bobby, stop the car!" I yelled. The car skidded to a stop on the side of the interstate and Bobby replied, "What's up?" "Militia. It's a concentration camp." Everyone immediately came to my side of the car to see it. "What do we do?" Howard asked. "That camp is also an oil rig. We could take out everyone in there with a simple match." "Howard's right. We would need an army to bust out the prisoners." Bobby responded. John now joined in, still staring at the camp. "The whole thing is a fortress of Militia people. Taking out the entire prison could be our best bet in this one. I say we throw some Greek fire bombs over the walls-" Lucy interjected. "-and kill the men, women, and children inside? Come on, Tony, this could be our only chance." She pointed to the prison. "And their only chance as well." Should they... Throw firebombs over the wall and escape unharmed? or Storm the prison and break everyone out while risking death?